Friday, April 9, 2004 | 8:31 a.m.
Never underestimate the value of food on a stick.
As fairs go, Clark County's, which runs in Logandale through Sunday, isn't even close to the biggest. But this means one doesn't have to walk far when one wants to chase the candy apple with a mess of cheese fries.
The down side is you don't have a prayer of walking off even the first snow cone, and you can't possibly eat all of the fair foods worthy of attention in one visit. But, with a little planning, you can try.
First, wear an elastic waistband. Second, divide booths into the four fair food groups: Fried, frozen, on a stick and miscellaneous.
"There's not much here for a vegetarian. I'm sorry," an exasperated woman said to the two adolescent girls with her.
Fiddle faddle. There are veggies aplenty -- fried onion rings, onion blossoms, potatoes and calamari, which could be a vegetable if it wasn't a squid. The potatoes even come in straight, ribbon and curly varieties.
Frozen food includes your hand-dipped and soft-serve ice cream, snow cones and fruit drinks that are shaken, not stirred.
Enter, the Texas Twister. Fresh-squeezed oranges, lemons, limes and cherries "all shaken up with our secret recipe," said Diane Memmott, who lived in Texas when she invented the drink but now lives in Utah.
"There's no alcohol, no caffeine, no carbonation," she said. "It took us six months to come up with the right formula."
And what's the stuff they draw into the cups from the 6-gallon jug at the back of the booth?
"That's the part I can't tell," she said.
Right. The Secret. Grab one then troll for the daily requirement of food on a stick.
This embraces many things Thai, anything dipped in caramel or candy coating and, the mother of all fair foods, corn dogs. I would sell my car for a good corn dog. (Actually, I drive a Ford Focus that's been recalled four times. I'd sell it for a picture of a corn dog.)
Don't settle for frozen imposters or store-bought batter. Cory Payne, of Bullhead City, Ariz., sells the real thing. All-beef dog too.
"There's an art to it," Payne said. "It's dip, dip, turn, turn.
"The colder the dog and the colder the batter, the better. It's not just any batter either," he said. "I make mine from scratch. We ruined a lot of hot dogs trying to come up with the right recipe."
What's in it?
"It's a secret," Payne said.
These fair people have more secrets than a White House press release. Payne's corn dogs will give you religion, if the Southern Baptists' booth can't. His stand is next to the Midway stage, across from the booth for Space Dots, which has been the "ice cream of the future" for like 20 years.
And if fried, fattening, carbo-loaded fare makes you feel guilty, then eat it for a charity. The concession stand near the main exhibit hall benefits Overton's nonprofit Cappalappa Family Resource Center, which runs a food bank among other services.
"We're the closest thing to social services in the Moapa Valley," said Jackie Dailey, program director.
I already had consumed a barbecue sandwich, potato salad, baked beans, a corn dog and two Texas Twisters.
"I'll take a cherry-vanilla ice cream cone."
Hey, it was for a good cause.
archive
